


The Mystery with No Solution

by huntingbunny



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Alternate Universe-all survived, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mercutio became the new prince, Tybalt was in charge of House Capulet, but it's not a happy ending either, they all lived longer than the original story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 11:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18409694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntingbunny/pseuds/huntingbunny
Summary: The last and only one who could read his sadness under the madness was gone.Once they hated their life, but after all they missed the old days with passionate love and hate that they could never go back.





	The Mystery with No Solution

**Author's Note:**

> One source of inspiration is the mysterious British question, "how Tybalt's hatred of the Kaplet family affects the plot, " but it doesn't really matter XD  
> I keep thinking, will there be a happy ending if everyone survived? well now you know my anser is no... I am sorry if this story make you feel not that good :( and I'm not a native English speaker so please point my faults out and thank you so much for that!

The current Prince Escalus was a nephew of the old Prince, only able to be the heir because the old prince had no children and Count Paris had another title. Some people thought it was ridiculous for the old prince to let his insane nephew rule Verona, but there were also few people thought the "Mad Prince" was the one who saw things most clearly.

“What do you think?" Said the Prince, laughing, as he bit the chin of the man laying on him. They were trapped in the large soft bed of the Prince's bedroom, with their limbs tangled like fighting. The prince bursted into laughter as that man closed his lips and said nothing. "Oh, faster, you prince of -no, Tybalt, you old cat, the king of cats! "

Tybalt Capulet thrusted harder and took hold of Mercutio's rather bushy short hair, attempting to make him shut up. The Prince's waterfall of long hair has been a thing of the past. As the master of Verona, even Mercutio had to strike a dignified pose. Besides, he didn't have the energy for his long, luxuriant hair in the midst of official business.

With no response, Mercutio felt bored as well, so he stopped talking nonsense. There was nothing but the sound of copulation and pants in the unlit room. The moonlight squeezed through the narrow window and made the bare skin almost transparent. Their faces were so blurred in the dark that they did not have to look at each other's aging faces.

"You are leaving tomorrow, why don't you just say it all now?" The Prince couldn't help being lonely after all, and his voice was a little hoarse with lust. Perhaps Tybalt was no longer young enough to shut his mouth with movements.

"What have I got to say to you?" Tybalt grinned sardonically, wishing only that the damned night could be spent in silence. He wondered what kind of relationship here they had at this time.

Verona was no longer that city filled with hatred. 30 years of peace, 30 years of time, enough to turn those young lads and girls dreaming their life into middle-aged who worked hard for livelihood.

Romeo Montague and Juliette Montague's nest was built in the middle of the two families' territories, symbolizing the end of the feud and the arrival of peace. The deaths of his eldest and second sons have whitened Romeo's temples too early, but the fact that his only daughter and youngest son have grown up was a great comfort to him and Juliette.

Each great house was managed by trusted clansmen of the two masters. Montague was entrusted to loyal Benvolio, and Capulet, in a chorus of incredulity, was entrusted by Juliette to her distant cousin Tybalt .From that day on, Tybalt has really become Tybalt Capulet.

 

"What is your name? I've wanted to ask since I was ten maybe. You see, Mrs Capulet—may she rest in peace—is your father's sister, so how can you be a Capulet?"The Prince gently scratched a scar on the back of the former soldier, with his voice cracked under the impact. Tybalt stopped suddenly and looked at him for a moment, his face obscured by the backlight, make it unable for Mercutio to identify his emotion.

"I can't remember, " he said at last, in a voice of confusion and relief, as he resumed his movements and the Prince groaned out, "I am over fifty, my Lord, and how can you expect me to remember anything that happened before I was fifteen? "

"I don't think this is the strength of a man in his fifties, old cat. You were not this valor when you were twenty! Oh, I forgot. You got badly hurt that year- we both did. " Mercutio laughed again. The grating laughter upset Tybalt even more, so he moved even harder, disrupting Mercutio with a sort of non-rhythmic impacts. That damned laughter was eventually choked back.

Among the youngest and most alive, the oldest, Tybalt, was now in his fifties, and the youngest, Juliette, turned 40 a few years ago. Mercutio thought, he didn't expect to see everyone grow up.

When the old prince died five years ago, Mercutio finally realized that the time had left him only two brothers who had already begun to feed the family, an ugly old scar and a crown that too heavy to bear. And an old enemy—or old friend—who has gained everything and lost everything, just like himself.

Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood*. An enemy who can read your heart is better than a lover who can’t see the sorrow in your eyes. Besides, he's good at his job and you can just lay back and enjoy it.

 

Benvolio had said many times that Romeo's daughter is a miniature version of Juliette, both in appearance and character. The little girl sometimes wore boy's clothes and studied fencing with her brother at her uncle's house. She smiled all the time and was so serious in sword fightings. Even good Petrucio couldn't resist her fierce attacks sometimes.

Somehow, the young Master Montague was much quieter than his sister. He had inherited his father's Greek god-like face and his mother's lively eyes, but he was neither a spoony like his father nor looked forward to life like his mother. Romeo often joked that this boy was more like Benvolio’s son.

Mercutio also thought the young lad was like old Benvolio, until, at his sixteenth birthday party, Mercutio saw him quietly watching the crowd at the pillars of the hall. Seeing the gloom and bewilderment in those Capulet eyes, it dawned on Mercutio that what Juliette had said "sometimes looked like his uncle at a younger age" was not a compliment to Tybalt.

The younger generation of Verona didn’t grow up under hatred, but with indifference and confusion as a substitute. Sometimes Mercutio would sit in the window and take a bird-eye view of the city. As their generation grew old, Verona seemed to grow old along with them. Devoid of passionate love and hatred, Verona gradually became a pool of backwater.

The end of houses’ war didn't mean all wars would end. People almost forget that Verona is a military fortress, and when the conscription orders came to Verona, the aristocratic children, who spent their days in the old arena listening to the opera, seemed at last to have a purpose, and poured into the Prince's office to ask to join the army. As Mercutio watched the young Montague and his followers around him, he felt that kind of powerlessness again, the powerlessness of seeing what was to come but unable to dissuade.

Later that day, after the new soldiers left contentedly, the butler reported to Mercutio that Capulet's old retainer had requested an audience.

 

"I know it's wrong, but I miss the old days, " Tybalt sat on the edge of the bed with his back to him. Mercutio noded knowingly. The shadow fell on Mercutio, covering those ambiguous red traces.

Once they could care less about everything. Two dependent kids, no-name relatives, living with few people cared, probably also few people would sigh if they died. They each had their own set of explanations for life, and scoffed at the other one. They tested each other with their long, sharp swords in the streets, and entered each other with another blade in the back yard of the Prince's house.

Now they are each burdened with a responsibility, and their slightly faltering pace can not keep up with the new Verona, nor with the coming war. When Tybalt said he would go to war with young Montague as his guard, Mercutio just said, well, Capulet, came to my house tonight.

"Look at those people who came back from the war, either lost this part or lost that part... The battlefield is nasty, much worse than the street fights we used to have. " said Mercutio,with his finger pointing to Tybalt's chest. There was a scar, only half an inch away from his heart, "But you have nine lives, don't you, old cat? If I were dead by then, Romeo would have taken one, leaving eight for my uncle's gallows. "

Romeo's sword pierced his lung that day, bleeding back into it almost killing him, and it took him a long time to recover from pleural effusion. After that, Tybalt breathed not that smoothly any more, and he hissed from his lung badly when he got emotional, like a broken bellow.

"The enemy soldiers are just some smug brats, too, my prince, not even as good as you were then, " Tybalt turned around to face Mercutio. His eyes reflected the moonlight in the darkness, indeed like a big cat in some way, "They're going to have to practice for another ten years to hurt me. "

 

The battle was imminent, and the soldiers marched down Augustus Boulevard toward the battlefield. Romeo stood by the side of the road, accompanied by his daughter, watching his son riding away. Young Montague’s still-childish face was covered by face armor, couldn’t tell he was worried or satisfied. His mother stood beside her husband. She preferred to see her two loved ones went away instead of fleeing from the parting time.

The man who rode behind young Montague wore a light helmet, and the red decorations on his armor were incompatible with the Montague troops. Besides, his horse was aged, and couldn’t walk with the ease of a young horse. But it was experienced, clever, and cunning, which made it a rare nice ride mount.

The procession disappeared at the end of the Boulevard. Maybe they would come back from there. Maybe they won't.

 

"It's already late, my lord, and I have some preparations to make. If you'll excuse me, " the gray-haired man stood up and began to put on his trousers. It was getting light, and the scars on his sturdy muscles could be seen. Mercutio sighed theatrically as he looked at his kind of pampered belly.

"Tybalt, do you hate the Capulet family? " Asked Mercutio abruptly. It was not the first time he'd asked like that. The last time he had asked was thirty years ago, when they had both just escaped from the Death. That time Tybalt had punched him in the face and gave him a shallow black eye, despite his weakness.

Mercutio didn't expect Tybalt to be so quick and sharp. He reached out and caught Mercutio by the neck. He raised his another hand, clenched it into a fist, but then slowly released both hands, breathing heavily with surging emotions. The rough sound scratched ears of them both. Tybalt got up from Mercutio’s chest and continued to wear the complex red topcoat in silence.

"No longer, " he said at last, "just as you no longer hate Escalus, Mercutio. "

 

Their feet were at last on the Augustus Boulevard again. Verona's enemies had been swept away, and the sergeants sounded their trumpets of triumph. The Prince ordered his men to ring the Great Bell of the Lomberti Bell Tower and summoned all the people to welcome the return of the heroes.

Flowers and applause surrounded the tired and proud soldiers. The officer at the head of the line took off his helmet, and for a moment the Prince thought it was Romeo turning twenty again, smiling and waving to him. The young Montague had a scar on his face and a deep set of eyes. He has been made a man.

He got off his horse, ran over to embrace his parents, accepted the tears and kisses of two olders, and then went down on one knee, with a tattered old helmet in both hands.

"...punctured his chest and lacerated my face, " he recounts, with his fingers sliding from his forehead to the bridge of his nose. All the fear, despair and guilt condensed into that scar. His father bowed his head gravely, and his mother clasped him, turning all her emotions into tears.

He didn't know why his fierce and decisive uncle would hesitate and cover him with his body after he was knocked down, instead of directly attacking to kill the enemy. He finally killed that enemy solider, a young man of his own age, with long black hair and olive-green eyes.

He brought back his uncle's helmet so that the old soldier's soul would wander no more. Family, honor, love, hate, none of them would disturb his sleep.

Prince Mercutio Escalus was finally serious and justice like his uncle, and showed his dignity and elegance in everything he said and did. Some said this is what a good ruler should be like. Others said that it's because no one can recognize the sadness under the madness from his eyes any more.

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> *It's a quote from the great book 1984, and it's the best explanation I have for Tybalt and Mercutio. Two small relatives of someone important, getting not much attention before and even after their deaths. So maybe they should understand each other the most, but made a different choice from each other. Fortunately they all stop their paces in dauntless gorgeous youth,what if they really survived? a lifetime retainers? a mad, misanthropic prince? Aww what a nightmare awww WAKE UP!


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